DEARIL

DEARIL POV.

The soft skin draped over my shoulders warmed my skin, her pheromones wrapping around my heart with vice. It made me angry and calm, all at the fucking same time. My wolf was definitely enamored with her or was it me? It was hard to tell, but that was the only way I could explain what had happened earlier.

I still couldn't believe it, but I'd morphed into a man without my wolf tearing me apart, or me killing my brother and my father. I had been able to pause despite the blood lust that coursed through my veins.

It was fucked up, and I couldn't explain why my wolf wasn't snapping in anger as usual. He hadn't even wanted to hurt the girl after she'd stabbed him. There was something about her and as I dropped her onto the bed, I couldn't help but take in every outline of her. Her shoulder-length jet-black hair was wet, and mud stuck to some of its strands, her eyebrows were dark, with small scars lining the edges of them from cuts, bruises marred her pale cheeks and I could